The Darkest Hour
by iamwintermute
Summary: What if Gibbs' memory never recovered? What if he never came back from Mexico? Tony went looking, but would Gibbs be willing to meet him half way? Slash, First Time, H/C, Angst. Written for NCIS Big Bang 2011 Spoilers up to S3  Hiatus .
1. Prologue

A/N: Written for the 2011 NCIS Big Bang. A very very big thank you to slashscribe for making the cover art and fanmix track list for me!

I would also like to thank the girls over on twitter for cheering me on about this story… You guys are so wonderfully supportive! Love you all! And finally, a special thank you to kesterpan for the wonderful beta job she did :)

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><p><em>I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,<br>And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,  
>And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,<br>And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking._

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide  
>Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;<br>And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,  
>And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.<p>

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,  
>To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;<br>And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover  
>And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.<p>

_ - John Edward Masefield, 'Sea Fever'_

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

He left. Without saying goodbye.

Causes abandoned; trust betrayed. He'd left like none of it mattered.

Maybe it didn't. Not anymore anyways.

_How could it if he couldn't even remember any of it?_

I could remember that moment like it was yesterday.

_Semper fi_. Always faithful.

Famous last words. And he couldn't even tell it to our faces.

Always faithful my ass. If he were always faithful, he would've stuck by us. I would've stood right behind him, catching him if he fell. We would've gotten each other through it all.

Abby cried. Abby almost never cried. I'd only ever seen her cry once, and that was when Kate died.

Fucking bastard.

No, I wasn't angry. I couldn't even get angry at the man anymore. I just felt disappointed. That in itself was worse than anger. Anger meant that someone cared, which I didn't anymore.

Or so I kept telling myself.

Liar.

Yeah, that's what I was. Just a liar who couldn't admit his own feelings.

Couldn't admit when I had the chance that I loved the man. And now I would never get that chance. Karma's a bitch.

I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't. Not really; not when the only person I could hate was myself.

How the fuck was I supposed to lead when I couldn't even trust myself?


	2. Part 1

**Stage 1: I Don't Want To Need You (or The Taste of Dried-Up Hope)**

Tony sat sideways on the couch, looking out the bay window on to the street. The old couch was scratchy and lumpy, but he didn't seem to take notice. There were boxes all over the floor and by the fireplace. Packing or unpacking, no one really knew.

It was late, or early since it was already way past midnight. He should be in bed but he just couldn't sleep. The dim streetlamp outside was attracting moths, tracing a chaotic dance of shadows.

He felt cold. It was only late August, summer not quite fading into fall, and yet, he felt cold. There was a chill coming from deep within his bones; a cold dread that had been getting steadily colder over the past few months.

Insomnia, brought on by stress. That was their diagnosis. Warm milk and exercise were all that was prescribed. Not that he wanted the pills. He'd seen enough as a child of what they could do.

He knew the real reason behind his insomnia; he was just powerless to stop it.

It's been almost four months.

He could still remember the day that ship blew up. He could remember the panic he felt as he directed the evidence collection and worked the case. He spent every ounce of energy he had on the case—he had to, or else he knew he'd begin to break if he let himself think about Gibbs, lying in the hospital in a coma. He remembered his heart sinking when the Director informed the team of Gibbs' amnesia.

He could remember Gibbs bursting out of the elevator with Ducky hot on his heels. He could tell that Gibbs still didn't remember them as the older man passed right by him without the slightest hint of recognition. Fortunately, Gibbs had been able to recall just enough details about the explosion that put him in a coma to tell them about Cape Fear, but Welsh had refused to listen. He remembered Gibbs yelling and screaming at the man in MTAC, then finally storming out as the rest of them stood there, watching silently in horror as the explosion consumed the vessel.

Ducky drove Gibbs back to the hospital that night. The doctors had wanted to keep him in observation for a few more days, but by the time Tony had gone to the hospital to visit late next day, Gibbs' had checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice.

He remembered driving over to Gibbs' house, hoping that the man had simply wanted to continue his recovery at home. His hopes were dashed when an empty house greeted him. He didn't know how, but he knew that Gibbs was gone as soon as he set foot in the house.

He found Gibbs' gun and badge on the coffee table, and a small square of paper that said only two words: "Semper Fi". There was nothing to indicate where he went.

He couldn't remember how he'd managed to drive himself over to Abby's. He sat there, feeling the gaping hole in his chest where his heart was as Abby sobbed into his shirt in his arms. How could he, Abby had asked, and Tony couldn't answer her. He wished he had the answers.

After the first month, he thought Gibbs just needed more time to work on getting his memories back. He refused to believe that the older man had really abandoned them. He refused to give up hope.

He figured out where Gibbs went. A place that held no memories, no past, no pain. A place that promised freedom and clarity. A place he could not follow.

He kept unconsciously checking his phone, as if Gibbs would just call out of the blue one day and tell him to pick him up at the airport, that he was coming home.

He started going to Gibbs' place, staying, a couple of hours at first, which quickly turned into days, weeks, and by the end of the third month he'd practically moved in. Gibbs had left everything as it was; the only things taken were some of his more casual clothes and a few photo albums and frames Tony knew he kept on the bookshelf in the den. He didn't dare to go into Gibbs' bedroom—the one that the older man had shared with Shannon—or the basement. Those were Gibbs' spaces; he had no right to intrude. He would wander around the house at night, lights completely out, trying desperately to feel the presence of the older man through the things he owned. It wasn't like he'd be able to sleep anyway.

The house felt like a mausoleum, full of things left and forgotten, of things with no memories attached to them. Not anymore. He was the phantom—a ghost of someone's past, an apparition stuck between life and death, forever wandering, haunting, never resting.

And so, when Ducky informed him of Gibbs' brief phone call and instructions to put the house up for sale, he finally broke down.

"He's not coming back, is he," he said by way of a statement, not a question. He'd wrapped himself up in an old blanket Gibbs had left on the couch, pretending that the barely-there scent of the older man would shield him from the world of hurt and sorrow bearing down on him right then and there.

"I'm afraid not, my boy," Ducky replied regrettably, moisture in his eyes. "Jethro's made it very clear that I'm to sell his house."

Ducky knew. He had always known.

How could he not? The way that boy looked at Jethro…

"What am I going to do, Ducky?" Tony's voice was thick with emotion, and he sounded broken, like the fractured memories Gibbs would never get back. He bit his lips until small beads of blood formed, refusing to give into the displays of emotions derived from the sense of rejection he was feeling in his heart.

He was all alone. Again.

Like he'd always been.

He didn't know why he ever expected this time to be any different.

They'd always leave. He'd always get left behind.

And he hadn't even had the chance to tell him how he felt.

Ducky winced at the sound of the young man before him. Tony looked like a lost little boy, huddling in the cold winds of some distant land, without a way home.

Tony had acted like nothing was wrong at the office. The team—his team now, however temporarily—needed him. Needed him to be strong for them, to lead them through it, until Gibbs came back. But when he was alone, all he could feel was the helplessness and loneliness that was gnawing away at his soul, slowly choking him until he couldn't breathe anymore.

He had never even entertained the possibility that Gibbs wouldn't come back. He had never thought that Gibbs would just abandon them.

He breezed through the next two stages of grief in one night.

He shouted at the top of his lungs, screaming nonsense that he couldn't remember afterward, until his voice was raw, until his breath was ragged. He hit and kicked the wall, banging and knocking until he almost punched a hole straight through, his knuckles torn and bloody.

When he was too tired and bloody to continue, he slumped down on the ground, back against the wall, and begged—to whom he didn't know—for someone to take it all back. To make things the way it was. To make it _right_.

There were no tears. His breath rough and his body ached from tension, but the tears never came. He was cold, his body in a spell of shivering he could not stop.

Ducky had been there, holding him like the grandfather he could've been, soothing him with a welcome embrace and calm, gentle words. But he didn't feel it.

Didn't feel the desert in his mouth. Didn't feel the blood dripping down his hand. Didn't feel the hard floor beneath his retching body.

He felt nothing, except for the ever-present coldness in the pit of his stomach.

He was numb.

* * *

><p>After that, everything seemed like a blur.<p>

He cashed out a chunk of his trust fund and bought out Gibbs' house, secretly clutching at the smallest shred of hope that if Gibbs ever came back the house would still be here waiting for him.

He gave up his apartment, and left most of his stuff to charity. Things that no longer held meaning. Things that reminded him of happier times that would never come back.

He got up, showered, dressed, ate, left for work. The day-to-day routine became an automatic response, like he was a wound-up clockwork man, just going through the motions.

He no longer cared enough to spend half an hour picking out an outfit from his closet full of designer suits and expensive ties. He no longer cared if he looked like he hadn't slept for a week, because to be honest, he probably hadn't. Most of the time he just lay on the bed in the spare room or on the couch in a light doze, not really asleep but too tired to be awake and alert.

He worked, took the calls, divvied out the assignments and cleared the paperwork, but he did so mechanically. He was still brilliantly sharp at solving cases, he still cared about the victims, he still excelled at interrogations, but when all was said and done, he felt nothing. The emptiness in him just sucked the joy of solving a case right out.

He began drinking too much coffee, developed a rather strong taste for bourbon, and found himself turning his head every time he caught a whiff of freshly cut timber—all because it reminded him of the man who'd abandoned them. Abandoned him.

He got in early, and stayed late. Anything to avoid being in an empty house alone during the waking hours, only to spend the hours when he should've been sleeping wandering aimlessly through the house, alone.

He no longer made the probie jokes or played pranks on McGee and Ziva. He no longer hid behind the frat boy masks because now he didn't need to. Because really, there wasn't any need to hide your emotions when you were so numb you couldn't feel anything anymore.

He was spiraling down into a tailspin and he knew it. He was powerless to stop it, but in his heart he knew he wouldn't have stopped if he could.

He could see the worry in the small pout of Abby's red lips, the concern in Ducky's furrowed brow, the uncertainty in McGee's eyes, the unease behind Ziva's cold exterior.

He wanted to tell them not to worry but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to convince them.

He knew he wasn't fooling anyone.

* * *

><p>Ducky and Abby backed him into a corner when he went to Abby's lab to check up on some results. He could see the worry in both their eyes. Tony sighed.<p>

"Abby?"

"Tony…" Abby began hesitantly, her fingers wringing in tight knots. "You know we love you, right? You're like a brother to me, my best friend in the whole world."

Abby looked down at her hands before looking back at Tony, her emerald eyes searching his moss green. "You know we care about you, right?"

Tony brought his arm up to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Yes, Abbs, I know."

"Do you really though?" Abby grabbed Tony's wrists, holding them in one hand while placing the other on Tony's face. Tony could see the unshed tears in her eyes as she choked through the rest of her words. "I know you're hurting. A lot. But you're not the only one who's hurting."

"Abby…" Ducky put his hands on Abby's shoulders gently.

Abby shrugged off Ducky's hands to wrap Tony in a fierce hug, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I've already lost him. I don't want to lose you too."

"Abby…" Tony tried, but failed. Abby was right. They were all hurting. Every single one of them. He and Abby and Ducky especially but he knew McGee and Ziva were mourning too, in their own ways. He pretended not to see the bags under McGee's eyes when he came in in the morning after a night of killing orcs with people half a world away. He pretended not to see the bandages around Ziva's hands and ankle after her no holds barred sparring sessions with guys twice her size. The signs were all there, he just refused to see them so he wouldn't have to acknowledge them.

"I…" Tony took a deep breath, trying to not sound so… shattered. "I don't know how. I don't know how to pull myself out of… this, whatever this is. I'm trying to hold everyone together, to get us through this, but I don't know how much longer I can do it."

"Then let us help you," Ducky finally offered. "You don't need to do this alone, Tony. We will do this together."

Abby nodded emphatically, her arms still around Tony. "We'll get through this together, right guys?"

"Damn right," McGee's voice rang out from the doorway, and Tony's head whipped around to find the younger agent standing at the door, next to Ziva.

"I know I haven't been here long, but if I've learned anything in this past year, it was how much we depend on each other as a team," Ziva said with conviction, sharing a look with McGee. She knew as well as he did how affected Tony had been with Gibbs leaving. They both knew how much Tony had taken on since. "Let us help you, Tony."

Tony sighed, a strained smile playing at his lips, and for the first time in four months felt a bit less alone.

Although he wasn't sure if that would be enough fill the gaping hole where his heart was.


	3. Part 2

**Stage 2: Stop Crying Your Heart Out**

Tony stood in front of the heavy door, waiting for his meeting with the Director. The Director's pretty secretary smiled at him from behind her desk but he could barely muster the will to return her smile. To think that a few months ago he would've flirted with her until she was blushing madly as the Director opened her door.

"You may go in now, Agent DiNozzo," Cynthia said after a brief call on the internal line.

Tony merely nodded at her, and turned the door handle, pushing the door open slowly.

"Agent DiNozzo, please come in," Jenny Shepard greeted from behind her desk, dressed in a tight fitting miniskirt that was an inch too short for good taste and a matching blazer. "And close the door, please."

Tony did as he was told before surveying the room. Shepard was a meticulous person—everything was in its place, not a single sheet of paper was astray. He looked to Shepard, then to the other occupant of the room.

Middle age, average height, average face, red hair, which would've been okay except for the slightly above average weight making the man looking pudgy. The man was wearing a suit that clearly came from Sears or somewhere similar—Tony had to close his eyes for a second and force himself to breathe normally—by the look of the ill-fitting jacket.

"What's this about, Director?" Tony began, wanting to get the meeting over with. Jenny Shepard never liked him or trusted him, for whatever reason, and she had been looking for reasons to get rid of him since she started. She'd been surprisingly nice in the aftermath of Gibbs' injury. Tony had thought that she'd finally warmed up to him and wanted to provide support in the time of need, but in hindsight, he realized that she just wanted to keep him pacified enough to solve the case.

He thought back to the day after he'd called Shepard to tell her that Gibbs had left. She'd laughed, and coldly ordered him to get back to work. She did not once ask where Gibbs had gone, or whether Tony had heard from the older man. Tony couldn't help wondering how genuine her display of affection he'd seen in the hospital towards him and Gibbs had been.

He didn't understand her reasoning behind the whole personal vendetta against him, but he didn't really care. Not anymore. Not since the only person that mattered…

"Agent DiNozzo, I would like you to meet Senior Special Agent Ted Campbell. He was recently transferred in from the Northwest field office." Shepard leaned back in her leather chair and brought her hands together after a small waving gesture, resting them on her crossed knees. "Agent Campbell, Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

"Pleasure." Tony held out his hand, waiting for the other man to respond. He didn't like this man; his gut had been screaming since he walked into the room. Tony's instincts may not be quite as accurate as Gibbs', but they were just as sharp.

"The pleasure is all mine." Campbell grabbed Tony's hand, and gave him a quick shake along with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Agent Campbell will be taking over as the head of MCRT, effective immediately," Shepard announced once the two men had been introduced properly.

"What?" Tony gaped at her. "What do you mean? What about _me_? Gibbs left me the position, I'm his second and I've been busting my ass for the past four months to—"

"Gibbs didn't have the authority to appoint agents, neither did he have the authority to give promotions." Shepard smirked, reveling in her victory over Tony. "You were _temporarily_ leading the MCRT because it was an emergency situation, and I hadn't had time to properly screen a candidate for that position. Now that I have—"

"But I'm sure my experiences speak for themselves, Director." Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And for the time I have been acting team leader of MCRT, our solve rate never dropped. I am more than capable of leading this team and—"

"Agent DiNozzo, I have made my decision, and that is final. You will continue on as Agent Campbell's second." Shepard narrowed her eyes, glaring at Tony, the 'or else I want to see your resignation by tomorrow' was easily read from her tone of voice. "Agent Campbell starts tomorrow. I expect your full cooperation to make Agent Campbell's transition as smooth as possible."

Tony tightened his fists, holding it tight against his body, but his anger vanished as quickly as it came. Gibbs wasn't here anymore, so what did it matter?

"Yes, Director," he said wearily in the end. Turning on his heel, he stalked out the door, trying hard to ignore the triumphant grin on Shepard's face.

* * *

><p>"What! She can't do that!"<p>

"Yes, she can, Abbs." Tony rubbed Abby's back with his hand when Abby lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and hugged him. "And she did. Campbell starts tomorrow."

"But what about you? What about Team Gibbs?" Abby's head snapped up from where Tony's shoulder. "We have an open case!"

"Gibbs is gone, Abbs. He's not coming back, you know that." Tony sighed heavily. "There is no Team Gibbs anymore."

"But there's you! You have been doing a great job with leading the team and everything!" Abby buried her head back onto Tony's shoulder. "I hate this. I hate her."

"I'm sorry, Abbs." Tony sniffed lightly, trying not to let his emotions bleed in. He had to be strong for Abby and the rest of the team. "I'll still be here, and so will Tim and Ziva. It's just going to be a bit difficult in the beginning but we'll adjust. We'll survive, like we did before. We always do. Right?"

"I still don't like it," Abby said in a muffled voice. "You deserve it so much more than that other guy."

"I know, Abbs. I know." Tony sighed, looking over at the two figures standing by the door to the lab. "C'mere guys." Tony waved McGee and Ziva over.

"Is it true?" Ziva asked bluntly, and Tony had to smile at her directness. McGee on the other hand was uncharacteristically silent. He leaned against one of Abby's benches behind Ziva, covering her six. The younger agent had learned a lot since joining them two years ago, and Tony was happy to see that McGee and Ziva seemed to have developed the kind of bond and trust necessary between partners.

"Yeah." Tony ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in random places. "The decision had been made. It's either this or I resign."

"That's unfair!" Ziva cried out, but Tony just shook his head. It was endearing to see Ziva care so much for them. He'd had his reservations about the Mossad officer when she first joined NCIS and they'd had their differences, but he had to admit that he'd since warmed up to her. She'd done much for the team, and earned their trust in turn. Ziva could be brash at times but her heart was in the right place, and that was all that mattered to them at the end.

"It'll be okay, Ziva." Tony gave her a smile, waving her over. "C'mere," Tony said, wrapping his arm around Ziva's shoulder as well. "Group hug! You wanna join us, Probie?"

"You cannot use this as leverage. There are witnesses," McGee warned, pointing to the rest.

"Come on, Probie, would I do that?" Tony scoffed.

"Uh, yes? Yes, you would." McGee rolled his eyes but joined in the hug anyways.

"You sure you're okay though, Tony?" McGee asked after extracting himself from Ziva and Abby's arms.

McGee wasn't doubting Tony, nor was he doubting Tony's ability to do his job. McGee was concerned for Tony's well being more than anything. He'd seen Tony bottle everything up inside before. It had happened after Kate died, and again when it was clear that Gibbs wasn't ever coming back. He and Tony had gotten close in the aftermath of Kate's death and Jenny Shepard's meddling ways, and McGee had wished that there were something he could do, but there was nothing. Tony had taken Gibbs' leaving hard, harder than any of them, harder than even Abby. Abby could still rely on Tony to give her the support she needed, but where was Tony going to find that for himself?

"Yeah, Tim," Tony met McGee's eyes, returning with a hollow smile that made McGee cringe on the inside. "I'll be okay."

_No, you're not_, McGee said to himself.

Ducky and Palmer were the last to arrive at the lab, and Abby launched herself at Ducky as soon as he arrived.

"I'm so sorry, Tony," Ducky patted Tony on the cheek after Abby let him go. "If you ever need to talk, my door is always open."

"I know, Duck," Tony gave Ducky the same hollow smile he gave McGee.

He would survive. He'd survived this long, hadn't he?

* * *

><p>"We've got a case," Campbell barked after putting down the phone. "Let's go, people."<p>

The other three silently picked up their backpacks and followed Campbell to the elevator.

"Metro found a body in Rock Creek Park, description matched a Lieutenant Commander Johansson, reported missing two days ago," Campbell recited off of the information he'd copied down onto his note pad. "DiNozzo, McGee, truck. David, you're with me."

"Pervert," McGee swore under his breath as soon as Campbell was out of earshot. "The guy probably doesn't even have a clue that Ziva could kill him a dozen ways with a paper clip."

Campbell had somehow developed a "fondness" for Ziva, and decided that she should have his consideration above the other, more senior members of the team, who'd been relegated to probie-duties. According to Ziva, the man's inability to respect personal boundaries was far worse than Tony or Gibbs.

"At least we don't have to listen to him. I feel for Ziva." Tony checked the fuel gage, seeing it was full, then got in the driver's seat. Campbell was, for the lack of a better word, useless. He was a paper pusher, with minimal field experiences. For the two weeks he'd been their new leader, the idiot had screwed up at least three interrogations that Tony had to salvage.

"Every time the man opens his mouth, stupid falls out. And that's saying it lightly." McGee sighed.

Tony didn't respond. All he wanted to do was get through the day, catch whichever perp that killed their Lieutenant, and go home. He pulled the truck out of the garage, and drove them to the crime scene.

* * *

><p>"McGee, what was that name you found when you crosschecked Johansson's phone records?" Tony asked, holding up a piece of paper in front of him with a frown. "The one that you said called at weird hours and never more than a few seconds?"<p>

"Uh, hold on." McGee shuffled the paper around his desk, looking for the stack of phone records that went back six months. "The name was…Chad Jennings."

"Huh," Tony huffed as he sent his screen to the plasma. "I might've just found something."

"What is it?" Ziva got up from her seat and walked over to the large screen.

"Missing weapons," Tony said as he moved to stand next to Ziva. "A lot of missing weapons."

"And what does missing weapons have to do with Chad Jennings?" McGee came around his desk to stand next to Ziva the other side. "And Johansson?"

Tony clicked the remote, and the screen zoomed to a specific location on the document he put on screen. "Look who the person in charge was?"

"Huh." McGee and Ziva both stared at the screen.

"Yup. Three years ago Chief Petty Officer Chad Jennings was dishonorably discharged and prosecuted after his Lieutenant at the time—oh look, Lieutenant Simon Johansson—found out about his 'side business'."

"It says it here that Johansson transferred from NAVSUP to NSWC shortly after the incident."

"I would say _Chad_ calling our vic repeatedly just before he died would be important." Tony tossed the remote to McGee and sat back down at his chair.

"Where are you on the angry ex-wife?" Campbell asked as he rounded the corner from the direction of the break room.

"She has an alibi," Tony said without looking up. "We found something else though."

"I told you to bring her in." Campbell parked his pudgy frame in front of Tony's desk and stared down at him.

"And I'm telling you we have another, more likely suspect." Tony tossed down his pen and looked up at Campbell with exasperation.

"Are you disobeying a direct order?"

"Uh, no? I talked to the ex-wife, she was on the other side of the continent at the time at a conference. There is no way she killed him." Tony sighed, tilting his head slightly, staring at Campbell. "On the other hand, we have a gunrunning scumbag that knew our vic. I think I'll stick to the gunrunners, thank you very much."

"You…!" Campbell sputtered, couldn't find the words. "You disobey me again I'll have your badge."

Tony glared at him, not saying a word. He didn't trust himself to not blow up in front of the entire floor. Campbell didn't have a single ounce of investigative instinct, and what was worse, was the fact that he took offense to anything said in opposition to him. Tony sighed inwardly, giving McGee and Ziva a quick glance.

"But we should still track down Jennings. He was supposed to be locked up," Ziva said with a mild annoyance in her voice, giving Tony a knowing look. She was not at all happy about Campbell as well. Most days, it took all of her self-control to not try and kill the man with one of the thousands of ways she knew how. "That whole connection between him and Johansson is just too much of a coincident, and we don't believe in coincidences."

"Fine," Campbell said, finally, after glaring at his team.

* * *

><p>Tony remembered hearing it go off. He remembered <em>it<em>, that single moment in time. It was loud. So loud. Nothing like if you were at a safe distance.

He remembered feeling the floor beneath him shake as part of the building collapsed.

Were they attacked? But how?

God his head hurt. Tony groaned as his head throbbed, trying to remember what happened.

This must be what Gibbs felt like, he thought absentmindedly before a bout of nausea overtook him and he blacked out.

The next thing he felt was his body being moved. He blinked his eyes open, trying to determine who was… his thoughts were interrupted by the excruciating pain coming from his right leg. He gasped loudly, his eyes shut once again, trying to ride out the pain.

"All right, secure his neck, prep for transport," a female voice yelled over the rest of the buzzing noise in the background, but Tony could barely hear it because of the ringing in his ear. "Looks like he's in a lot of pain. Get me an IV line and start pushing ten milligrams of fentanyl."

"McGee…? And Ziv…" Tony began coughing midway through the sentence he was struggling to get out. "…Abbs?" His voice was hoarse from inhaling the dust. Receiving no answer, Tony began to struggle with the straps that were holding him down onto the gurney. His head had been immobilized by foam to stop him from turning it.

"Agent DiNozzo, please stop moving! You are concussed and may have spinal injury. We need to keep you as still as possible until we can get you to a hospital." the voice from before sounded from above him as an oxygen mask was placed around his mouth and nose.

Another stab of agonizing pain shot through his right leg that nearly had Tony passing out. "Ahh!"

No. He had to make sure the others were okay. Abby… Tim… Ziva… Ducky… Palmer… Tony tried to move his hand to grab at something, but found his arms trapped.

"Let me go!" Tony shouted, his voice muffled and his breath fogging the inside of the oxygen mask, as his body thrashed, trying to get free. "I need to find them—"

"Agent DiNozzo! Calm down!" the stretcher stopped and the voice was back, telling him to stop moving. "Shit. Push five milligram of diazepam to sedate him for transport."

A few seconds later, Tony blacked out again from the painkiller and sedative.

His eyes blinked open then closed to a slit because of the bright light. He looked around groggily. He couldn't move his arms and legs; they were so heavy. His fingers were tingling, telling him that they gave him something. He groaned as he felt the pain in his leg, dulled by medication but still present.

He could tell that they were in a moving vehicle, but he was so tired it didn't take long before he blacked out again.

Tony woke to the smell of antiseptics.

Hospital.

He could remember only bits and pieces of how he got there, but it took him a while before the event that left him wounded came crashing back into his skull.

Bomb.

At NCIS.

He tried to sit up only to slump back down from nausea and muscle aches as his body complained. "Argh!"

"Tony?"

Abby! Thank God. "Abbs?"

"Oh my God, Tony! You're awake!" Abby stood up abruptly and scurried to the bedside. "Thank God! I'm going to go get Ducky and the trauma doc and Brad. Oh my God, I need to call Ziva and Timmy—"

"Abbs. Abby?" Tony tried.

"—oh and Palmer. Tony, the whole building was worried about you! The Director is being a total bitch not letting us come visit, but I came anyways. She can fire me if she wants, although I doubt she will, since I'm the best forensic tech this side of the continent—"

"Abigail!" Tony yelled the loudest he could manage in his state, before breaking into a coughing fit.

"And… Tony! Are you all right?" Tony's coughing finally broke Abby's rant.

"Yeah… I'll be… fine…" Tony gasped for breath after the coughing finally subsided. "Was anyone else hurt? Tim and Ziva? Ducky? Palmer?"

"They're all fine. The rest of the people in the evidence garage got away with only minor injuries." Abby worried her lips and looked at Tony with an unreadable expression. "Except for Campbell—he was DOA."

"Fuck." Tony couldn't stand the guy—hell, Campbell was an asshole—but he still felt bad about what happened to him.

"He was buried under the debris when the ceiling collapsed," Abby said solemnly. "I mean, I hated the guy, but he didn't deserve this."

"Yeah, I know, Abbs." Tony sighed and allowed himself to sink further into the bed.

"Anyways, I'm going to go get the doctors and call the others." Abby leaned forward to surround Tony in a loose hug. "I'll be back later, okay?"

"Sure, Abbs." Tony gave her a weak smile. "I'll see you later."

* * *

><p>His eyes blinked open to the sound of his phone ringing, but instead of reaching for his phone, he just let it ring until his voicemail picked up the call. He didn't have to look at the screen to know that it was most likely Abby who'd called. It was always Abby, or Ducky, or Palmer, or Tim and Ziva… It was good to know that his friends—his family—were there for him, but he really didn't want to deal with anything or anyone at the moment.<p>

He'd probably get reamed by Abby later for not picking up, Rule Three and all, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Pain from his leg had him sucking in a breath with his teeth and fists clenched. He'd forgotten to take the pain meds, falling asleep to the sound of the television. Not that he really wanted to take them. He'd spent the first two weeks at home zonked out on pain meds because it was quite literally unbearable if he didn't take them. As soon as he felt he could tolerate the pain, he cut the dosage in half so he would be at least somewhat lucid during the day.

It'd been… four weeks since the bombing at NCIS. With the Supervisory Agent dead and the Senior Field Agent severely injured, the MCRT was officially on stand down until further notice and a secondary team had been called in as per SecNav's orders after moving majority of NCIS's operations to Quantico.

McGee had been loaned out to cybercrime, but every time he came to visit Tony he complained about how naïve some of the cybercrime guys were. Tony was quite amused by it, pointing out that McGee was just like them when he first started with the team. McGee huffed and puffed but he knew Tony was just teasing him.

Tony sighed, moving with his working limbs to get himself out of bed and into the shower. Ziva was coming by shortly to drive him to the hospital for his check-up.

"I'm leaving," Ziva said after a long silence. They'd just pulled out of the driveway of the hospital, heading out to grab a bite before she'd drop Tony back at home.

"Leaving?" Tony looked over to her with a confused expression on his face.

"I'm leaving NCIS." Ziva stole a glance over to Tony as she slowed at a right turn. "I'm going back to Israel."

"Oh." Tony stared at her, dumbstruck.

"I wanted you to know it first, from me. I owe you that much. You have been a fantastic leader in Gibbs' absence. I've learned a lot from all of you in the past year, but I don't know how much longer I can continue like this—Gibbs left, you're…recovering, and McGee got sent to the basement. I felt like I had no one I could trust." Ziva kept her eyes on the road, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. "Jenny has become intolerable, and my father will be needing a hand with a couple of missions, so I tendered my resignation."

Tony was not at all surprised. He knew the feeling of not knowing whom to trust, and he was glad Ziva had the alternative options in the Mossad.

"And you know what she said to me? She accused me of being disloyal to her!" Ziva waved her right arm around as she muttered some phrases Tony had came to assume to be Hebrew curses before she continued. "Anyway. I will be leaving in a week. I hope I will have the opportunity to return to the States one day, but if I do not, I expect you all to visit me in Tel Aviv."

"I'll make sure of that." Tony gave her a small smile.

Ziva squinted at Tony, pursing her lips. "I hate to admit it, but I think I will miss Ducky's stories. And McGee, the man is magic with computers. I wish Mossad had someone like him."

Tony couldn't help laughing at the comment.

* * *

><p>Ziva left for Israel, they all went to the airport to see her off.<p>

Abby and Ducky came by every few of days to check up on him, keeping him company. McGee had dropped by a couple of times, when Abby was away at a conference in Vegas.

He knew they were worried. He'd studied enough psychology in college to know that he was falling into depression even worse than before, and that he showed signs of PTSD. He still couldn't talk about the bombing, tried not to think about it most of the time. The odd times he thought about it he ended up a trembling mess on the floor as he flashed back to the explosion that almost took his life.

"Hey Tony!" Abby's voice rang from the door, shortly before she appeared in the doorway into the living room. "I'm back! And I've got souvenirs!"

"Hey, Abby." Tony looked up from his spot on the couch, dog-earing the book he was reading. "How was the conference?"

"Ooh, Tolstoy, good taste. And it was great! The Vegas crime lab gave me a grand tour, it's so cool there! And their graveyard shift boss? Coolest guy _ever_. He studies bugs for a living!" Abby spoke animatedly, arms waving around as she described the lab to Tony.

"Sounds like you had a good time?" Tony gave her a big hug when she sat down next to him.

"Oh totally!" Abby snuggled against Tony in return, wrapping her arms around Tony's neck. "Their DNA tech was a lot of fun to hang out with. We both like the same bands, and have so many interests in common."

"Hmm." Tony regarded Abby with an amused look. "Sounds like something to me?"

Abby giggled. "Maybe. We've been chatting online. He's kinda sweet, and he promised to visit."

She leaned her head on Tony's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"The same." Tony sighed. "Leg's still busted, and I still can't walk without my crutches."

"It'll get better Tony. It will." Abby held him tighter. "I gotta go. The nuns are waiting for me at the bowling alley. I'll drop by tomorrow?"

"Sure Abbs." Tony gave her a kiss on her temple as she pulled away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Some days, Tony felt like he was standing still while the entire world moved around him forward, leaving him in the dust.<p>

McGee came by at the six-week mark with his Xbox and an advance copy of Call of Duty 2, and halfway through the second level McGee told him that he was quitting NCIS to write full time. Working cybercrime was fun and he was killing it down in the basement, but it just wasn't the same without _the_ team. He'd submitted his first book to a publisher and his editor had liked it a lot.

Tony wasn't really surprised at this development. McGee had real talent with words; he'd learned that when McGee had shown him work he'd previously posted online. He wished McGee good luck, and told him to drop by more often, to which the young agent replied, "you bet."

Ducky retired when Tony's recovery reached the two-month mark. The old doctor dropped by to tell Tony that he felt that he'd spent too much time with the dead and not enough with the living. While he had loved and enjoyed his job, it was time to bow out while he could still enjoy life.

Ziva came back, attached to the security detail at the Israeli Embassy, and much to Tony's surprise, had begun dating McGee.

"What exactly do you see in McGoo?" Tony gawked at Ziva when she showed up with McGee in tow.

"_I_ think he's rather cute. And dependable. Exactly what a woman looks for in a man," Ziva scratched McGee's jaw to tease him, making him blush a rosy red.

Tony cracked a smile watching them. They seemed… happy, and that was enough for Tony. "Congratulations. And Tim?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

"You totally owe me a beer."

McGee chuckled. "Sure, Tony."

* * *

><p>And then, everything went to shit.<p>

Three months after the bomb, his doctor told him when he went for a check-up, that while he could begin using his right leg, it wasn't ever going to be the same. They had hoped that the nerve damage caused by the fracture would heal on its own, but it hadn't.

It was a good thing that Ducky was with him that day. Tony wasn't sure what he would've done if he were by himself.

He gave his notice the next day. Tony had been a cop long enough to know that nerve damage like his was a career ender. He wasn't ever going to qualify for the field again. If he wasn't going to be in the field, there was no point working at NCIS, or any other federal agencies for that matter. He was a cop, a field agent. He worked best out there, not sitting behind a desk pushing paper.

He found Abby on his doorstep a couple of days later.

"Why?" Abby asked, stalking in the door, and Tony could see the anger vibrating out of her.

"Abbs—" Tony began, but Abby interrupted him.

"Don't 'Abbs' me!" Abby said angrily, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "You can't just leave!"

"Abby, I don't have a choice. The doctors said that the nerve damage is irreversible." Tony sighed. He held himself up with his good leg and wrapped a spare arm around Abby, bringing her close. He brought the hand up to pat Abby's head, kissing her on her temple. "I can't qualify for the field anymore."

"Oh, Tony…" Abby sobbed into Tony's shirt. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Tony held Abby in his arms until her sobs subsided. "Come on. I've got some coffee on."

They sat around the dining table, mug in hand.

"Greg is moving here." Abby gave Tony a small smile, her eyes still a bit red from earlier. "We have a really strong connection. I've never met anyone like him."

"Sounds like you guys hit it off?"

Abby ducked her head shyly. "I guess we did. This might be it, you know?"

Tony's eyes, once so full of life, looked calmly into Abby's and he smiled a sad little smile.

"Congratulations, Abbs," he said. He meant it, really, he did.

* * *

><p>He stood there, outside of Gibbs' house, and waved until Abby's hearse finally disappeared from view before he allowed the smiling mask to fall.<p>

He turned and walked into the house, the weight bearing down on him. He dropped to his knees and crouched down, hands clutching at the front of his shirt, gasping for breath.

They were all gone. Moved on. Left him behind.

He was happy for them—he really was. Though at the same time, he could feel a familiar sorrow and anger well up in his chest, stealing his breath. He couldn't bring himself to blame them.

After all, what else was there to do?

He knew as soon as Gibbs left that it wasn't ever going to be the same. The past eight months were just delaying the inevitable.

He looked up at the house and suddenly he felt the urge to go. To leave. Just go somewhere. Anywhere but here.

But where could he go?


	4. Part 3

**Stage 3: Meet Me At The End of The World**

Gibbs stood watching from the edge of the small cliff as the little blue bus made its way shakily down the road and slowed to a squeaky stop less than fifty feet from the house. He frowned. There wasn't another house for at least a mile in each direction and the closest town was a minimum twenty-minute drive, so whoever was stopping here must be looking for him. It wouldn't have been a problem except he wasn't expecting visitors.

He'd come to Mexico, hoping to heal. Hoping to remember. And while the physical wounds healed, the memory never returned.

The doctors back in DC told him that it was called dissociative amnesia. They said that it was usually the result of some form of trauma. They said that his brain was blocking out those memories. They said that there was no known effective treatment for this kind of amnesia. He could only hope that something—things that belonged in his forgotten past—would trigger some spontaneous recovery of his memory.

Or so they said.

Every day for the first four months he'd hoped it would come back, but he was met with disappointment every time. Some bits and pieces filtered through, but it was never concrete or solid enough for him to grasp at it, make it clear. It was like he was looking at the left over pieces from a broken mosaic of those fifteen years—all the good parts were swept away, gone forever, and all he was left with were the fragments that hinted at something beyond his grasp.

After that, he just gave up on his memories ever coming back. He learned to cope with the loss and moved on. What else could he have done?

He had often sat there staring at the ocean; the calming waves soothed him but never completely took the pain away.

His girls. They were gone, and with them, his purpose in life.

He remembered the day he got the news. He remembered the explosion that put him in a coma the first time. He remembered sitting there on the beach at Crystal Cove, where he'd taken Kelly fishing and horseback riding. He remembered sitting there with his gun in his hands, as he contemplated life, or the lack thereof.

He remembered pulling that trigger, and the sound of a Lapua 308 traveling three thousand feet per second out the barrel, hitting his target a mere second later.

He remembered the emptiness he felt after.

He often wondered why it was that his mind had chosen to forget fifteen years of his life, but left the most painful memory intact.

But then again, if he had to live through the pain of finding out that his girls were gone forever, he wasn't sure he wouldn't just pull the other trigger.

The one on the gun in his hands.

After eight months, Gibbs had mourned. He'd cried and shouted after one too many fingers of bourbon. He'd begged and asked God—if there really was one—why, why it had to be his girls. He'd learned to embrace the pain and anger that came whenever he thought of them and to allow those emotions to simply pass without dwelling on them. He'd come to terms, again, with losing his family. He'd accepted his memory loss. He'd begun to think about the future.

After eight months, he was finally approaching "normal".

One thing—the only thing, really—that managed to worm its way back to him was an impression. An idea. He couldn't help feeling that he'd left something behind. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch.

Something important. Something that he… loved.

That was the only way he could describe the longing in his heart, even though he didn't know what he longed for.

Gibbs watched as a man descended from the bus. His unwelcomed visitor was limping heavily, his movements sluggish. The only thing the man had was a small backpack and a duffle, which he was clearly struggling with due to the limp in his right leg.

As the man approached the house, Gibbs could make out his face.

DiNozzo.

It was a face he recognized, mostly from the various pictures he'd seen after he woke up at Bethesda that he'd associated with fragments from what was left of his memories of the past fifteen years. The doctors had thought that flipping through pictures of people he knew might trigger some flashbacks and help him to start remembering again. Obviously that had been a bust, but he did "re-remember" some faces and facts with help of current media and what he could find and access through his clearance.

He cursed to himself, then turned on his heels and stalked back into the house through the back door then straight to his front door after using a rag to brush the sawdust off of his hair and clothes.

"Hiya, Boss," Tony greeted as he got to Gibbs' front porch, his voice strained and eyes weary even though he was trying his hardest to look and sound casual. "Ya missed me?"

Gibbs had been standing in his doorway, waiting for Tony. He studied the younger man in front of him. Tony looked… if Gibbs could pick just one world, he'd say tired. Tony looked tired. Exhausted even.

What the hell had happened to him?

"What the hell are you doing here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked brusquely. "And quit calling me boss. I'm not your boss." Not anymore, Gibbs added silently.

Tony seemed taken aback at the terse tone of Gibbs' voice. He dropped his head looking to the side. "Sorry, force of habit."

Sensing the younger man's unease, Gibbs unconsciously softened his voice. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in DC?"

Gibbs could hear the gasp as Tony's breathing hitched and his jaw clenched.

Something had happened in DC. That was the first thing that popped into Gibbs' head. "Did something happen?"

"You could say that," Tony answered after letting out a shuddering breath, the hand resting on the strap of his duffle tightened around the nylon.

"Come on. Inside," Gibbs shook his head and sighed as he waved the younger man into the house. He didn't miss the soft "thanks" as Tony passed him on the way in.

Gibbs followed Tony through the door, but went into the small kitchenette instead to grab a couple of beers from the old fridge in the corner. Popping both caps off, he took a long drag of one as he walked back towards the living room. It was a bad idea, letting DiNozzo in instead of chasing him away, but Gibbs couldn't bring himself to refuse DiNozzo. He had no idea why that was, either.

Tony had settled himself in one corner of the long couch that took up most of the small room. Gibbs frowned when he saw Tony had drawn his legs up, wrapping his arms around them, and all but curled himself up into a ball. He couldn't recall ever seeing the younger man in so much distress. He didn't remember much, but in the bits and pieces he did remember, DiNozzo was happy.

Seeing DiNozzo with the look of uncertainty on his face was all kinds of wrong, and Gibbs didn't like it at all.

"So? You wanna tell me what happened?" Gibbs leaned forward and dangled the other bottle of beer in front of Tony.

The movement of the bottle woke Tony from his thoughts. He accepted the beer, took a swig of beer and swallowed. He sat there silently drinking his beer, and it was a while before Tony attempted to say anything.

"I left," Tony stared at the peeling corner of the sticker on his bottle. "Something did happen, and," he pointed to his right leg, pulling the pant leg up to his knees. "This was the end result."

Gibbs sat down silently with his own beer in the recliner situated next to the couch after handing Tony the other bottle. He let out an inaudible gasp then sighed when Tony pointed to his leg. "Ah, hell, DiNozzo."

He could see where the bone must've punctured the skin. A puffy, pink, raw and scary-looking scar halfway down the shin. Gibbs also spotted a familiar surgical scar that was the telltale sign of repair to an injured ACL. There were other smaller scars littering the fleshy part of Tony's leg, likely caused by deep lacerations, which was making it look torn and mangled.

"Tibia was shattered, compound fracture right in the middle here. The plateau fracture tore my ACL. The larger pieces of broken bones did a number on the tibial nerve. Hairline fracture in the fibula," Tony said casually, like he was talking about the weather and not his scarred and battered leg. "They had to put in a permanent titanium rod and pin everything in place."

Gibbs winced as Tony recited his injuries. He remembered his own recovery after the bomb in Kuwait, but it was nowhere near as bad as Tony's. He was in a coma, but other than that he was physically fine. The only other place where he'd seen these kinds of injuries was in a VA hospital.

"How…"

"Don't!" Tony said sharply. "Don't. Just… don't ask. I can't…"

The tremors began in his hands, then travelling up his arms and soon his whole body was shaking, breaking into cold sweat. Tony tightened his arms around his legs, his fingers digging into his arms, his teeth pulling in and biting down hard on his lower lip. His eyes glazed over, staring at a point in the room, completely unfocused.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs could tell that something was very wrong by the way Tony was trembling, his face turning sheet white, his forehead and hands clammy with sweat.

Classic PTSD. He'd seen this before with men in his platoon.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs got up from where he was sitting and knelt down on one leg next to Tony. He put a hand on Tony's cheek, slapping his face to try and bring Tony out before he sank too deeply into the unpleasant flashbacks of whatever traumatic event it was that left Tony… like this. "Tony! Look at me. Look at me! Tony!"

Tony blinked, snapping out of the attack with a loud gasp. "Shit!" Tony swore as he fought for breath, his chest heaving, trying to draw enough oxygen into his lungs.

"Tony! You alright?" Gibbs cupped his hands around Tony's face and forced the younger man to look at him. "Hey! Focus!"

Tony was forced to look into Gibbs' icy blue eyes, and for a moment he thought they were back in DC, working a case and Gibbs had just given him a head slap so he'd stop goofing off.

"Boss?"

"Tony, you with me?"

Tony nodded, the shaking in his body beginning to subside. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." Gibbs gave him a quick pat on his face. "I understand."

Tony looked down, avoiding Gibbs' gaze.

"Look at me, Tony." Gibbs nudged Tony's head back up to face him with a finger. "I know you can't talk about what happened, but PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of."

He knew that Tony would understand what he said.

"I know." Tony shook his head and tried to get up from the couch. "I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Sit down, DiNozzo." Gibbs pushed Tony back down on the couch by his shoulders. There was no way he'd just let Tony leave like that. Not in the state he was in anyways. "Actually, lie down. Ya look like crap."

Tony rolled his eyes, but obeyed Gibbs' order regardless. "Thanks for the complement, Gibbs. Glad to know you hadn't lost your wicked sense of humor."

Gibbs snorted.

"How have you been? I know you don't remember any of us, but Abby missed you something fierce. We all did," Tony asked, turning on his side and using his arm as a pillow.

"Doing alright, I suppose. Can't complain." Gibbs shrugged but didn't comment further. He dragged over a blanket he kept near the couch and draped it over Tony. "Get some rest. I'll wake you for dinner."

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said quietly, to which Gibbs nodded in response.

* * *

><p>At first, they didn't talk much.<p>

Well, that wasn't exactly true. They didn't converse much, but Tony talked plenty. Gibbs was mostly silent, offering up an occasional comment as he worked on his projects in the little workroom he had added to the side of the house.

Tony slept on Gibbs' couch, shared the house chores and helped Gibbs with his projects. Gibbs gave his silent permission for Tony to stay, knowing that the younger man had come to Mexico because he needed time to deal with whatever happened to him back in DC. Gibbs knew, because he'd been there before. Because that was why he was there in the first place

Tony talked while they worked, his topics ranging anywhere from movies to books to countries he had wanted to travel to. He talked about things he'd wanted to do, wanted to try, but would probably never get a chance to, with his leg…

"I remember when I was a kid, Magnum was _the_ man," Tony said happily, recounting the time where he stayed up just to watch the famous fictional PI. "He was why I became a cop."

Of course. Gibbs rolled his eyes before he resumed sanding. "You sure it wasn't the badge and the gun?"

"Well, that too, but mostly because of Magnum." Tony shrugged, giving Gibbs a quick grin.

"What were you like as a child?" Gibbs asked curiously. He genuinely wanted to know, and he suspected that it was something that Tony didn't talk about much.

Tony gave Gibbs a surprised look then chuckled.

"Me? I was the sweetest little angel!" Tony grinned mischievously then revised his statement after getting a "yeah, right" eye-roll from Gibbs. "Okay, fine, that wasn't true at all. I was the devious little devil. Made my nanny cry."

"I thought as much." Gibbs shook his head with a chuckle.

"My best friend in college said it was attention seeking behavior," Tony shrugged. "He's a child psychologist so I guess he knows what he's talking about."

"Where's he now?"

"Halfway around the world, volunteering with some Doctors Without Borders mission in China. At least, that's the last I heard of him." Tony frowned in thought then shrugged. "Always wanted to go to China."

"Why didn't you?"

Tony stared at Gibbs in disbelief. "Because I was always working? Because I had a very demanding boss?"

Gibbs winced at Tony's words. "What about now?"

"Nah." Tony shook his head. "I'm good where I am now."

"Living on the beach in the middle of nowhere, boring, Mexico?" Gibbs scoffed. He couldn't imagine with Tony's personality that he would want to stay in one place for long, let alone being stuck in a boring place like this.

"Why not? You seem to have no problems with it." Tony looked up at Gibbs, his expression unreadable.

"You just didn't seem like the type to… you know?" Gibbs shrugged, not entirely sure how to qualify his own lifestyle.

"Let's just say I'm trying out something new, shall we?" Tony answered with a wry smile. "I like it here. It's nice, quiet. Small piece of the paradise."

"Yeah, I know." Gibbs smiled, looking up and out the window towards the ocean.

* * *

><p>Aside from the occasional rain, the weather in Mexico was almost always nice, even in the middle of winter.<p>

"Abby wrote me a letter," Tony said, sipping his beer. "She's pregnant. Can you believe it?" Tony shook his head with a smile. "She's refusing to marry Greg, but they're living together now. She said she's quitting NCIS to go teach full time at George Washington University."

"Hmm," Gibbs hummed as he flipped the steaks. "I guess we have our next project."

Tony chuckled at Gibbs' suggestion. "And you're going to get this mystery project up to them, how?"

"I'd tell ya, but I'd have to kill ya." Gibbs grinned.

"Your house is still there, you know," Tony said, then paused. He stole a glance at Gibbs, watching the man's reaction. "I kept it pretty much the way it was."

"Yeah, I know. Ducky told me." Gibbs carefully transferred the meat from the grill to two plates with prongs before motioning Tony to bring the plates over to the small table and deck chairs.

"I'd hoped, at first, that you just needed time, that you'd come back." Tony turned his head to look at the sunset over the ocean after sitting down.

"… I had to leave. You know that." Gibbs began after a long silence. "I didn't really have a choice. There was just… too much missing."

Gibbs stood at the edge of the deck, looking towards the incoming tide. "It was like losing pieces of myself. I didn't know who I was anymore."

Tony looked up at the man. The setting sun was casting a warm glow on the older man's face, making his hair golden.

"Ah, hell. That doesn't even make sense," Gibbs brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head. "Never was good with words."

"Nah, I think I know what you're trying to say," Tony nodded with a small, sad smile. He knew how that felt, not knowing who he was. It was the same reason why he'd left. He had nothing left, and that scared the crap out of him. "I knew I was done as soon as the doctor told me about the nerve damage. The kind of trauma my leg sustained, the odds of a full recovery were essentially nil. It would never function as well as before, even with the most cutting-edge orthopedic therapies. I was done. I would never be able to go into the field again. I'd be stuck behind a desk, until I'd either retire, or get so bored and drink myself numb before eating my gun."

Tony sighed. "Didn't want to end up like that."

Gibbs nodded, looking back at Tony, taking in the uncertain look on Tony's face.

"I was in a bad place," Gibbs began slowly. "Physically, emotionally… I was a wreck, Tony. All I could think of was Shannon and Kelly and how they were dead. Back then I had had my revenge. Knowing me, I probably used work and bourbon to numb the pain. But after the coma… I couldn't. I've lost too much of who I was, and…"

Gibbs swallowed, gulping down his own insecurity. "I can't trust myself to do the right thing anymore."

"It took me eight months." Gibbs picked up the beer he'd opened earlier. "Eight months before I got past the guilt and hurt of losing my girls. Eight months for me to accept that they weren't coming back, like the memories I'd lost. Eight months to face the fact that this is my life now, that this is how it'll be."

"I'm sorry… about Shannon and Kelly." Tony got up from where he sat and walked to stand next to Gibbs, looking out into the sunset. "I really am."

"I know." Gibbs patted Tony's shoulder, reaching up to ruffle his long, shaggy hair with a smile. "Come on, food's getting cold. I'll tell you all about them later."

"That a promise?" Tony smiled wide as he tried to smooth down his rebellious hair.

"That's a promise." Gibbs smiled back.


	5. Part 4

**Stage 4: I'll Hold You For A Million Years**

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Tony shouted from the door. "You sure you don't need anything else?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Tony." Gibbs rolled his eyes from where he was straddling the main beam of the roof. He needed to finish patching that roof as soon as he could manage. It looked like rain clouds were about to roll in; if he didn't get it done he'd have a leaky house to deal with and he had no intentions of letting that happen. He looked down the front side of the roof, barely catching a glimpse of the motorcycle that Tony had bought from some guy in town and fixed up himself. "You _sure_ that bike would hold?"

"Gibbs." Tony sighed exasperatedly. "It'll hold. Stop worrying. I spent a month working on it!"

"That's what you said the last time." Gibbs arched a brow. He recalled having the same conversion the week before and Tony had vouched that the bike "was purring like a kitten." Until it broke down halfway into town. Tony had stubbornly pushed it all the way there, after which he'd called Gibbs to pick him—and the bike—up, instead of turning around and heading back to the house. Needless to say, Gibbs was less than thrilled about that when he showed up in the old pickup.

It wasn't that Gibbs minded going into the small town to fetch Tony. He was just… worried. Their pasts and issues aside, Tony had been an exemplary… roommate. He cooked and cleaned when it was his turn, and helped Gibbs with fixing up the place. They had begun to talk, getting to know each other again. Some things were familiar, some not, and it had been… nice. Easy, comfortable. Enjoyable, even.

Sure there were bad days and Tony had been getting on Gibbs' nerves more often than not. Tony still had the occasional nightmares and flashbacks and Gibbs had his good days and bad days, but they got each other through, one day at a time.

And if Gibbs was truthful with himself, he liked Tony keeping him company. He liked the way Tony sometimes tried to cheer him up. At the same time, Tony was about the only person that could tolerate his taciturn nature, and be perfectly fine with just enjoying the silence between them. He never asked, never pushed, and was content just to be around Gibbs.

Gibbs sometimes wondered why, but he didn't want to push Tony either.

"Fine. Just don't stick around town for too long. Rain's coming in, you wouldn't wanna get soaked," Gibbs said, finally, reminding Tony about impending weather.

"Aye, aye, Gunny," Tony said jokingly, referring to Gibbs' rank for his commanding tone.

"Damn right." Gibbs grinned from the roof as he watched Tony hop on the bike and speed away, leaving a plume of dust in his wake.

* * *

><p>"No! I'm serious, Manuel!" Tony grinned at the middle-aged man behind the counter. "I'm telling you, Michigan doesn't stand a chance this year! <em>My<em> Buckeyes are going to kick their asses."

"Yeah, right, Tony. You just keep telling yourself that." Manuel snorted.

"You wanna bet on that?" Tony wiggled his eyebrows, allowing his grin to widen. Manuel was local, but had left home to study in the big city and eventually ended up in the States for his graduate studies and then work. When his mother took ill a few years ago, Manuel decided it was time to take early retirement and come home, and had been running the local hardware store ever since. Tony had become a frequent customer of Manuel's even before getting that motorcycle, picking up supplies and parts for Gibbs' renovations and other projects.

Manuel muttered something in Spanish and rolled his eyes. "No way, Jose. I've learned my lesson. Never bet with you or with Gibbs. I'm neither crazy nor rich."

"C'mon, I'm not _that_ bad." Tony spread his arms innocently, but his eyes shone with a mischievous glint that meant nothing but trouble.

"You're not bad. You're just crazy." Manuel pointed his finger at Tony, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "And my mother taught me well—never bet with 'una chico loco'. Y que estás loco."

Tony let out a hearty laugh at that.

"You should get going." Manuel handed Tony the bag with the parts he wanted. "It's gonna rain soon. You don't want to get caught in it. I'll give you a call at the house next week when the rest of the parts come in."

"Sí, mama," Tony quipped with a grin and quickly sidestepped so Manuel couldn't smack his head. "I'll see you next week."

"Brat." Manuel shook his head with a smile. "Say 'hi' to Gibbs for me."

"Will do!" Tony put up his hand for a small wave as he headed out the door.

* * *

><p>Tony was about three miles from the house when the engine began to sputter, then finally fell silent with a loud bang.<p>

"What the hell!" Tony tried to restart the bike, but the engine simply refused to cooperate. "Didn't I just fix you two days ago?"

Great. He was in the middle of nowhere with a broken-down motorcycle and bags full of food and supplies. He couldn't exactly call Gibbs to pick him up this time, since he didn't have a cell phone anymore—why keep one if there was no cell service around anyway?

Tony sighed. He was going to have to push the bike back then. It was only three miles. How bad could it be?

When he felt the drop of wetness on the tip of his nose, the first thing that went through Tony's mind was, "you've got to be kidding me!"

But then Gibbs did warn him about the weather after all, so it really was his own fault that his bike broke down—again—and that he didn't have enough time to get it back to the house before it really started to pour, because he lingered at the market for too long after leaving Manuel's.

"Should've taken the truck." Sighing resignedly to his fate, Tony resumed pushing the hunk of steel and all of the supplies back towards the house as the rain began to fall.

Tony didn't mind the rain; he thought it was rather enjoyable once in a while to get soaked right down to the bone, as if the stress of his job would just melt away with the rain—just not on a day where the daytime high was no more than sixty and all he had on were a light jacket and a t-shirt underneath. Tony shivered as a gust of wind blew past him.

"I better not get sick." Tony scowled at his motorcycle. "Or Gibbs is gonna kick my ass for having to babysit me."

* * *

><p>Gibbs had decided to continue building the extra dresser for Tony in the workshop after he'd finished with the roof. Tony needed some room for his stuff now that he was pretty much settled in. He smiled as he ran his hands over the smooth top of the mostly finished piece, sanded down to a fine, satin finish. He'd made it with beech to match all of the other furniture, and all that was left to do was fitting the drawers then a couple coats of varnish to seal.<p>

If he closed his eyes he could see in his mind the bright smile on the younger man's face when he had told Tony about it. Gibbs had become fascinated by the way he could make Tony's day by doing the smallest thing. Cooking a favorite dish, pouring him a mug of coffee in the morning just as he was getting out of the shower, making sure that they head into town in time to watch OSU games on Manuel's satellite TV… And in turn, Tony would give Gibbs one of these incandescent smiles, which Gibbs treasured dearly.

He wanted Tony to be happy. He wasn't quite sure why he felt so compelled to make the younger man happy, just that he did.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, inside the cluster of broken bits and pieces of what was left of his memory, he knew he'd always been close to Tony. The kind of trust he saw in Tony's eyes every time he turned to face him could only have come from years of having each other's six.

He thought back to what Manuel said two weeks before when Gibbs went to pick up the wood for the dresser and ended up chatting with over a few beers.

"So what's the new project?" Manuel was curious. He had known that Gibbs was good with his hands, particularly with wood. The man had bought a shack and turned it into a castle—new siding, new roof, an extension to the side, a workshop and most of the furniture in the house. He had even helped Gibbs on occasion when he wasn't busy.

"New dresser for Tony." Gibbs grinned. "His stuff is taking over my living room."

"He asked you to?"

"Nah, I offered." Gibbs shrugged. "He needed the space, and I happened to know how. He's sleeping on my couch, it's the least I could do."

"So you're building a dresser for him, just like that?" Manuel looked a bit surprised but quickly recovered.

"Yeah." Gibbs glared at the man. "So? Ya got a problem with that?"

"Nope, not at all. But, you know, if I don't know better I'd say you're in love." the Mexican arched an eyebrow, pointing his beer bottle at Gibbs. "The way you talk about that boy."

"What are you talking about?" Gibbs frowned.

"You." Manuel nodded towards Gibbs. "And Tony. The way you two act around each other? If I didn't know the two of you, I'd say you two were in love."

Gibbs' eyes widened at Manuel's words.

"You've never even noticed, have you?" Manuel shook his head, laughing and muttering something in Spanish. "You are a smart man, Gibbs, but sometimes, you can be really dense."

"Never said I was bright," Gibbs grumbled. Truth be told, Gibbs did feel some raw attraction towards the younger man, but he'd pushed it down, pretending it wasn't there. He didn't what to do with it, so he chose to ignore it. "And how did you know…?" Gibbs never told anyone about his sexuality. Shannon knew, but they were happily married and it hadn't come up in years.

"That you bat for both sides? Mi amigo! What, do you think I'm from the boonies?" Manuel made a sound of pure exasperation. "And for the record, I'm perfectly okay with it. In fact, I think you should get your head out of your ass and go do something about this thing between the two of you."

"What 'thing'? We don't have a 'thing'. Tony's not… not like me," Gibbs said dejectedly, remembering the looks that Tony had been getting from all the girls in town and how he flirted with them. Gibbs might not remember it, but he could imagine how popular Tony must be back in DC. "And we _are _in the boonies."

"Seriously, Gibbs. You've never noticed how that boy looks at you? He worships the ground you walk on!" Manuel gestured wildly with his free hand as he said.

"What he worships is who I was, not who I am." Gibbs sighed. "I'm a very different man now."

"Just hear me out, okay? Give that boy a chance. If I'm right—and you know I'm rarely wrong—he loves you. Probably has for a long time."

"What if I can't give him what he wants? I'm just an old, washed up retired marine who apparently used to build boats in his basement. What could I possibly offer him?" Gibbs brought his free hand up to rub against his face, feeling a bit anxious and frustrated.

"He came to find you, knowing that you don't even remember much about him. And he stayed here, in the middle of fucking nowhere for three months, doing nothing except helping you with your renovations. Doesn't that tell you something? He doesn't need anything else. What he needs is _you_!" Manuel sighed.

Maybe Manuel was right. Maybe they did have feelings for each other. Maybe that was why he was standing there trying to decide what kind of handles to put on the dresser.

Maybe that was why he wanted Tony to be happy.

The sound of heavy rain hitting the awning woke Gibbs from his thoughts. He took a look at his watch and was surprised at how late it was.

And the house was too quiet.

"Tony? Ya back yet?" Gibbs called out as he dusted himself off with a rag and became worried when he received no reply. Tony should've been back an hour ago. "Tony?"

Gibbs was about to head out looking for him, when he heard the sound of someone coming up the front porch. He yanked the door open, only to find a dripping-wet Tony leaning against the doorframe. His body was shivering furiously from the cold, and his teeth clattered as he spoke.

"He…ey… Gibbs…" Tony managed a small smile. "The bike… broke… down again… on my way… back… had to push… it…"

"Jesus Christ, Tony, you're soaking wet!" Gibbs grabbed Tony by the shoulder and steered him into the house, completely ignoring the mud that they were tracking all over the floor as they made their way towards the bathroom. As soon as they got to the bathroom, Gibbs turned the faucet to get the hot water flowing and began stripping Tony out of his clothes, leaving and ignoring the wet mess on the floor. He couldn't help the curses when his hand came in contact with Tony's bare arms. "Goddammit Tony, you're ice cold! Didn't I tell you not to take the bike?"

"Sorry… Boss…" Tony said through clattering teeth. "Won't… happen… again."

"Ah, hell, Tony." Gibbs helped Tony out of his pants and underwear then cupped his face with one hand. "I'm not mad. I'm worried. I don't want you to get sick, alright?"

"So you won't… have to… babysit… me?" Tony smiled weakly.

"Exactly. Now get under that spray." pushing a nude Tony into the shower, Gibbs gave the shivering man a glare but there was no heat in his voice. "And don't come out until you're completely warmed from head to toe. Got it?"

Tony nodded shakily as the hot water beat down on his chilled body.

"I'll go put on the kettle and make some tea," Gibbs said as he turned to leave the bathroom, averting his eyes to avoid looking at Tony's body and the way the water was flowing down those hard planes. He gulped down the urge to peek, telling himself that it wasn't the right time to think about these things.

Gibbs put the kettle on, before going about cleaning the floors as he waited for the water to boil. He heard the shower stop and couple of minutes later, Tony emerged from the hallway that led to the bathroom, dressed in a heavy pair of sweats and a hoodie from OSU, drying his hair with a small towel.

"Put some socks on," Gibbs ordered after taking one quick look at the man's bare feet. He turned the stove off, poured the boiling water into a mug with a teabag in it and offered it Tony when the younger man came back. He nodded approvingly at the thick socks on Tony's feet. "Ya alright?"

"Still cold, but I'll be fine." Tony sipped the tea slowly, careful not to burn his tongue.

"Go sit down, you look like you could keel over any minute." Gibbs stared at Tony until he complied, then made his way to the living room after making another mug of tea for himself. He would've preferred coffee, but it was going to take some time to brew and he wanted keep an eye on Tony. Gibbs watched as Tony grabbed a book he'd started reading a few days ago and curled up on the couch before sitting down next to Tony with some crossword puzzles.

It was a while later, as his mind drifted with thoughts, that Gibbs felt a slight weight on his shoulder. He looked over to find Tony fast asleep leaning on him with an almost empty mug in one hand. The book had tumbled out Tony's other hand, lying forgotten on the couch.

"Tony? Hey? Ya wanna lie down?" Gibbs removed the mug and placed it on the coffee table before patting Tony's face lightly, trying to wake him up so he could get horizontal and comfortable. Unable to resist the urge to run his fingers through Tony's hair, Gibbs reached up to brush some loose strands of hair out of his face before moving his hand to feel Tony's forehead. "Hey, Tony, wake up. You felt a bit warm. Let's get you in bed, okay?"

Tony's eyes fluttered open, unfocused. He made a sound of distress, rubbing his face on Gibbs' shoulder before he slinked an arm around Gibbs' neck and buried his face into the small space between Gibbs' shoulder and the couch. Gibbs sighed, shaking his head and feeling torn between amusement and worry at the younger man's antics.

"C'mon, up you go. You'll be more comfortable in a bed." Gibbs snaked his arm around Tony's back, hauling the man up and half-dragged Tony towards his bedroom. Once Tony had settled down on the bed under covers, Gibbs sat down next to him.

Tony was a bit restless in his sleep; his hand gripped Gibbs' shirt, tight, as if clutching at something.

"What am I going to do with you?" Gibbs asked with a sigh.

* * *

><p>Gibbs woke with a start, surrounded by darkness. He wasn't sure what woke him, but he could feel that something was wrong.<p>

He could also feel a body plastered against his, warm and heavy, like an electric blanket.

Tony.

Tony had a low-grade fever, he remembered, and he had dragged Tony to his bed so the younger man could lie down comfortably. He must've fallen asleep at some point, watching over Tony.

Reaching up instinctively to feel Tony's forehead, Gibbs was relieved to find it had cooled to a more or less normal temperature.

Gibbs sighed contently at the weight of Tony's body half on top of him. It felt nice. Felt right, like it was meant to be. It was something he hadn't had since Shannon died, and he missed it. It was oddly familiar but at the same time completely different, the chiseled lines and hard planes instead of the soft, yielding curves.

This was what he'd been missing since he came to Mexico, Gibbs realized. It was the same feeling he had when he returned home from every tour, falling into Shannon's wide-open arms.

Having Tony here in his arms…felt like coming home.

Brushing a few loose strands of hair away from Tony's forehead, Gibbs studied his face. Tony's face, like the rest of his body, had been well tanned into a light olive complexion instead of a burnt red, thanks to his Italian roots. It was a much healthier shade than the pasty, sickly paleness when Tony first showed up at the beach house.

He stilled his hand momentarily when Tony let out a small whimper and didn't move it until he was sure Tony was still sound asleep.

Tony didn't look younger or older in sleep. Just quieter, calmer and more relaxed. It felt like all was right with the world when he was asleep. Gibbs couldn't help the hand that ended up threading through Tony's thick hair and cupping his face. Rubbing Tony's sun-kissed cheek with his thumb, Gibbs smiled before leaning in to peck a small kiss to Tony's temple.

He was about to extract himself from Tony's hold when the younger man began to shake and twitch.

"No…" Tony whined, his eyes tightly shut. "Stay with me, Gibbs!"

"Tony, I just need to get a drink of water," Gibbs said evenly, running his hand through Tony's hair again to try and calm him down.

"No!" Tony's arm began to thrash, hands scrabbling and clawing, trying to get a hold of something. "Please! You can't!"

"Tony? What's wrong?" Gibbs grabbed hold of Tony's arms, locking the man in his own arms so Tony wouldn't hurt himself banging his arms against the headboard and drawers.

"Don't do this to me, Gibbs!" Tony let out a low wail. "Come on…!"

Nightmare, Gibbs realized, remembering the nights he woke to the sound of Tony tossing and turning and whimpering in his sleep on the couch. But it felt different, some how; Tony's reaction to the nightmare felt stronger. Gibbs took Tony by the shoulders as he always did and began to shake him, patting him on the cheeks at the same time. "Hey! Tony! Wake up!"

"Gibbs?" Tony's eyes snapped open, his face less than an inch from Gibbs' own.

"Hey!" Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're alive…? Thank God." Tony's voice was shaking, his eyes wide with relief and still slightly unfocused. He cupped Gibbs' face with his palms, leaned in so their foreheads were almost touching before he closed the last bit of distance and kissed Gibbs.

* * *

><p>"<em>Gibbs?" Tony stood in a room. It was dark, but he recognized the place. It was Gibbs' house and it was bare. "Gibbs? Where are you?"<em>

_There was no answer. He heard a sound, up the stairs, so he followed it, stopping just outside of Gibbs' bedroom. He turned the handle, the pushed it open. "Gibbs?"_

_The glare of sun stunned him momentarily. He was back on that rooftop, and he could see himself, standing behind Gibbs, covering his six. He wanted to get closer; he wanted to warn them. Warn them about Ari. But there was an invisible wall in front of him, stopping him. He screamed at the top of his lungs, but no one seemed to hear him. He slammed his fist into the invisible wall and watched as Kate went down, and then the whole place went back. The wall in front of him disappeared, and he stumbled over his own feet only to find that he was in the darkened hallway inside a ship._

_Gibbs. He had to get to Gibbs to warn him. Warn him about the bomb!_

_But it was too late. He was knocked back by a giant explosion into a wall._

_A flash, and then he was back in DC, at the Yard, trapped under debris. He began to fight it, trying like hell to move the pieces that lay on top of him. By some miracle he was able to get free, crawling and dragging his injured leg. The pain was unbearable but he had to find Gibbs._

_Underneath another pile of debris, Tony saw a gleam of silver. He scrambled over._

"_Oh God. Gibbs!" Tony patted Gibbs on the face. "Gibbs! Wake up!"_

_The older man's face was covered in blood, but his eyes blinked open, looking at Tony through unfocused eyes. A few moments later they shut again._

"_No…" Tony began to shake Gibbs' shoulders gently, not wanting to aggravate any injuries. "Stay with me, Gibbs!"_

_He threw himself at the debris, trying to get it loose so he could get Gibbs out. He could feel Gibbs' breathing slow down._

"_No!" Tony shouted as he busied himself with moving the pieces. "Please! You can't!" _You can't die. Not like this.

_He finally got enough out of the way to pull Gibbs out from underneath. The older man was wheezing air, barely breathing._

"_Don't do this to me, Gibbs!" Tony screamed, bending down to listen to his heart and breathing. "Come on!"_

Tony felt someone shaking him. He was shivering, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or the fear and anxiety lodged in his throat. He looked up and saw Gibbs.

"Gibbs?" Tony asked shakily, reaching for his face. He was okay. Gibbs was okay. _Thank God_. "You're alive?"

Tony held Gibbs by his face, leaned in and kissed him. "Thank God."

Gibbs was in shock, but only for a brief second. Tony's lips were soft and full and eager, and Gibbs couldn't resist pressing ever so slightly into Tony, taking charge and wanting more. The kiss was electrifying, stimulating Gibbs in a way he never experienced before.

He knew he probably should stop Tony and push him away, but he couldn't. Not after he had admitted to himself about his feelings. Not after he was finally ready to do something about it. Kissing Tony was like nothing he'd experienced before, and he was in awe at how Tony opened up to him when his tongue silently asked for entrance.

Tony had half expected Gibbs to pull away; it was a dream after all. In his dreams Gibbs never kissed him, but the sensation felt all too real. It took Tony a while to realize that it wasn't a dream.

Not-dream Gibbs was insistent, swiping his tongue over Tony's lips, demanding entry. It was all Tony could do in his nightmare-addled state to simply let go and let the other man take over, his hand sliding down to rest on Gibbs' muscled chest.

When they finally broke away, Tony protested with a tiny moan at the loss as his chest heaved, trying to pull air into his lungs. He staring into Gibbs' blue depths, searching, afraid of what he might find—disgust, annoyance. Instead, all he saw was longing and happiness, mixed in with…desire?

Tony ducked his head, slightly embarrassed, but Gibbs would have none of that. He tilted Tony's head back up with a finger. "Hey, it's alright."

"I'm sorry, Gibbs. I don't know why I did that…well, actually I do. I thought you were dead, in that nightmare… It's never been this bad before—" Tony tensed up and began to babble, but was forced to stop when Gibbs once again pressed their lips together as he cupped the back of Tony's neck, bringing the younger man closer. Gibbs could feel the tension bled away from Tony's body as he melted against Gibbs, giving up control, letting Gibbs take over.

As Gibbs swept his tongue over the roof of Tony's mouth, Tony began to respond to him, shyly at first then with more eagerness and hunger. Gibbs backed off slightly, keeping it slow and comforting, gently caressing Tony's tongue with his own.

"Ssh… It's okay." Gibbs let his hand wander down Tony's back, stroking him gently as one would with a cat, feeling Tony relax completely. He sank back down to the bed, pulling Tony to plaster against his side, and wrapped an arm around Tony. "Rest. I'll be right here."

It didn't take long for Tony to fall back asleep. The next thing he knew he was waking up, still snuggled against Gibbs' side, but the older man was observing him, soft blue eyes adoring and mirthful.

The rain from the night before had turned into one of those rare winter storms. The winds were howling outside, and the sky was overtaken by roaring, angry clouds. Torrential rain was loud against the roof and siding of the house, but inside, within Gibbs' arms it was safe and warm.

"Mornin', sleepy head," Gibbs said as he cupped Tony's cheek and kissed the top of Tony's head.

"Morning," Tony yawned. He was so warm and comfortable there in Gibbs' arms he didn't want to get up. He'd expected awkwardness, but it hadn't felt that way. It felt…right. "What time is it?"

"Oh-nine-hundred," Gibbs arched an eyebrow. "What? You've got somewhere to be?"

"Nope," Tony let his head sink back down to rest on Gibbs' shoulder. "Just curious."

"Good," Gibbs' hand returned to stroke Tony's back again, and Tony responded with a moan that sounded almost like a cat purring. Gibbs couldn't help the single amused chuckle that escaped his lips. "How're you feeling?"

"Not too bad," Tony yawned again as he answered, rubbing his cheek against Gibbs's t-shirt, a finger lazily drawing circles on the solid chest underneath. "I know you don't like apologies, but I'm sorry," Tony said after a while, sounding slightly sheepish. "About yesterday."

"For what?" Gibbs lifted his head slightly to stare at the top of Tony's head. He couldn't quite understand what Tony had to be sorry for—was it about the kiss? Gibbs felt himself tense up slightly.

"For not listening to your advice. I was really hoping that the bike would hold up. Instead I made a mess that you had to clean up, and then got myself sick so you had to babysit me…" Tony said quietly, voice trailing off.

"So you're still okay with the kiss?" Gibbs needed to know, but he kept his tone light and teasing. He didn't think he'd read Tony wrong, but stranger things had been known to happen. His hand wandered down Tony's flank to his hip, letting his fingers massage teasingly the tiny bit of exposed skin.

Tony didn't answer. He'd been secretly in love with Gibbs for a long time, lusting after the man for even longer. It was the reason why he broke down after Gibbs had left, and the real reason why he ended up at Gibbs' front door when he had nowhere else to go.

Gibbs was the only one that ever mattered to him.

The barely there pressure of Gibbs' fingers was lighting fires up and down his body, making him hard in seconds, and he was sure Gibbs felt it. He was afraid to speak, not trusting himself to form coherent sentences. Instead, he opted to simply nod his agreement, and Gibbs could tell that he was blushing furiously by the pink in his ear and neck that was showing through the tanned skin.

"Does that mean you wouldn't mind more?" Gibbs couldn't help teasing Tony, making him beet red from the neck up. He could feel Tony's morning erection grow harder, and felt himself respond to it. Gibbs shifted slightly so he could bury his face into the crook of Tony's neck and breath in deep. He could smell the minty scent of Tony's soap, lingering from previous day's shower, mixed in with something else that was uniquely Tony.

The combination of Tony's pliant body and his intoxicating scent, as well as both their arousals was almost too much. Gibbs growled low, then pushed Tony flat on his back before rolling over so he was lying on top of Tony.

"God, Gibbs." Tony sighed as their erections rubbed together through their shorts.

"Jethro." Gibbs corrected him, rolling his hips slightly and making Tony moan. "Last chance to back out, Tony."

"No." Tony shook his head like his life depended on it. He grabbed for Gibbs, pulling the older man down by his neck and back. "No stopping."

Permission granted, Gibbs closed the last bit of distance and kissed Tony again, claiming his mouth, his body, his soul. Gibbs dominated Tony's mouth, kissing him deep, sucking the other man's tongue into his own mouth. Moving from Tony's lips, Gibbs nibbled at his stubbled chin, up his jaw, until he got to the spot just under the ear. Tony bucked, moaning softly at the nips the older man teased him with.

"More," Tony begged. "Want more. Jethro…"

"I know, Tony. I know. Me too," Gibbs sat back on his haunches, pulled off both of their t-shirts. Lifting his hips up slightly and letting his knees bear some of the weight, he pushed his shorts out of the way before doing the same with Tony's. They both sighed contently as Gibbs pressed his hips back down and their cocks brushed against each other.

The dark skies outside brightened suddenly with a bolt of lightning, the clash of roaring thunder followed in its wake, and Gibbs could feel the same kind of electricity flowing out his hands, through Tony's body and coming right back into himself through his dick.

He rolled again, back onto the bed, but on his side this time, pulling Tony with him. No longer needing to hold himself up, Gibbs snaked a free hand between them, taking both their erections into his hand in a firm grip.

Tony busied himself with touching every inch of Gibbs' skin, moaning and growling as he did so, and thrust himself in time with Gibbs' strokes. With Tony so responsive to his touches, it was all Gibbs could do to not come right there and then.

Another flash of lightning, and Gibbs could feel his own orgasm approach as the electric pulse that was flowing between him and Tony sped up. He dipped his head forward onto Tony's shoulder, latching back a pulse point and feeling the smooth skin under his lips as he grazed his teeth over it, working it.

"Fuck!" Tony cried out when Gibbs added a twist at the top to his strokes as thunder rumbled at a distance. He was close. Gibbs could feel Tony's length twitch in his hand as Tony's fingers found their way into Gibbs' hair, gripping lightly as the younger man held on.

"God, Tony. So good. You feel so good." Gibbs gasped out, taking Tony's mouth and kissing him hard. He groaned into the kiss when Tony tightened the grip on his hair ever so slightly.

"Come on. Come for me," Gibbs whispered into Tony's ear when their lips parted and felt the man shudder against him. Tony came with a strained groan a few moments later, spilling over Gibbs hand as Gibbs sped up and came as well.

For a while, they simply lay there, on their sides and facing each other, their chests heaving and breaths stuttering. Tony moaned softly against Gibbs' skin when he rolled onto his back, hauling Tony close and tucking the younger man to his side once more. "Mmm…"

"Hmm?" Gibbs arched an eyebrow, lifting his head slightly to fix Tony with an inquiring look.

"That was…" Tony paused, trying to come up with a word, but had to settle with a "wow."

Gibbs gave a soft snort, smiling as he plopped his head back down. "Yeah, I know."

"I never knew you felt that way…" Tony said quietly, casting his gaze low, watching his fingers as they played with the hair on Gibbs' chest. "About me."

"Didn't realize it until recently myself," Gibbs replied, sounding almost apologetic as he ran his fingers through Tony's hair. "But I'm glad I did."

"Sounds like we've got lots to talk about." Tony raised his head, resting his chin on Gibbs' shoulder with a small smile.

"We do, huh?" Gibbs chuckled, the vibration from his chest making Tony's smile grow into something incandescent. "Well, we've got all the time in the world."


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Coming Home**

Gibbs was standing outside, feet bare, when Tony found him. It was early. The eastern sky was just brightening, the sun still hours away from rising. There was an eerie calmness in the near complete darkness that surrounded them.

He didn't remember ever seeing the older man so… relaxed. Gibbs had trimmed his hair, but not the 'high and tight' cut he used to sport. That, and the cargo shorts and plaid shirt combo made him look at least ten years younger. The sea breeze was carding through his short hair, making it dance.

Tony wished he had a camera. He wanted to remember this moment forever. He felt content and happy – truly happy – for the first time in his life. He smiled at that notion, shaking his head. Not good. He was turning into a romantic sap! DiNozzo men were not saps. This simply would not do!

He walked, still limping slightly, to stand behind Gibbs, knowing that the former marine was well aware of his presence, and wrapped his arms around Gibbs' waist. He hooked his chin onto the older man's shoulder, taking in the comforting scent of his lover—still the same Old Spice, coffee and sawdust, but now with a hint of the salty ocean breeze.

Callused hands came to rest on top of his hands, holding them tight, thumbs circling, rubbing against them. The cowrie shell bracelets they both wore mirrored each other in the dim light. Gibbs had bought them after the older man saw Tony looking at them with interest. He was sure he didn't say anything, but somehow Gibbs just knew that he'd thought about buying them. Tony smiled at the memory of that day. Gibbs didn't do emotions, but Tony could always feel Gibbs' love through the little things that he did for him.

The breeze picked up, and Tony shivered slightly in the wind. He hadn't bothered putting on a shirt or sandals, walking out with only a pair of tattered jeans. Gibbs turned slightly, saw his shirtlessness and frowned. The soft blue eyes had the look of worry in them. It was early spring, and while the daytime temperatures were comfortably warm, it still got chilly at night.

"It's not that cold, really," Tony said, trying his best to put on his innocent face. "What're you doing up so early?" he began nibbling behind Gibbs' ear as he whispered.

"Thinking." Gibbs sighed, tugging himself out of Tony's arms. "Tony…"

"Okay, okay. I'll go inside if you come back to bed with me." Tony smiled, and his entire face lit up brighter than the rising sun. Gibbs didn't remember ever seeing the younger man so… happy.

It's a good look on him, he decided. And knowing that he himself was the reason for that incandescent smile—he was in awe. He still didn't quite understand how he deserved to have the younger man's complete loyalty and trust and devotion. He was the one who had left; he was the one who had given up.

But Tony came searching. And he refused to leave. Tony was like a beacon for his ship at sea. He guided him, helped him find himself again, even if the rest of his memory never came back.

And Tony loved him. Really, truly, loved him, beyond the shadow of a doubt. That knowledge had been earth shattering for him. Never had he known a love so pure, so fierce, so…extraordinary.

He had thought that he would never love again, but he was wrong. So very, very wrong. He had fallen in love with Tony. He'd fallen in love with that man who loved him more than anything in the world. His memories were still lost, and his heart still ached each and every single time he thought of Shannon and Kelly, but Gibbs knew he'd be all right, so long as Tony was right there beside him.

He stood there, soft blue eyes meeting his lover's green, mesmerized. His hands rose to touch Tony's sun-kissed cheeks, thumbs stroking lightly.

And then their lips met, all too briefly.

"Let's go," Gibbs said with a wide smile that left Tony breathless and slightly dumbstruck.

They made love to the sound of the ocean.

"…I love you, Tony," Gibbs whispered, as he came with a grunt and stilled, his eyes tracing the golden rising sun on his lover's body.

"I love you too, Jethro," Tony answered with a smile, basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm. Later, they would have to drive over to the airport and pick up Abby, Greg and their baby Katie, visiting for the first time. But that was later. Now, he just wanted to lay there, his lover's body draped over him, and enjoy the closeness.

People had always said that the darkest hour was just before dawn.

But it was in that darkness that they had found their guiding light.

_In each other._

~FIN~


End file.
